


A Reluctant Courtship

by maybetwice



Category: The Reluctant Widow - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Courtship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybetwice/pseuds/maybetwice
Summary: It's only a few months before the end of her mourning Mr. Cheviot when Elinor finally arrives in Bath.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empressearwig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/gifts).



> It's been a couple of years since I read this novel, but I was so, so excited for the opportunity to reread when I received your request as my assignment this year! I'd forgotten how charmingly funny the book was, and how much I had really enjoyed Ned and Elinor's bantering. Thank you for the opportunity to revisit them -- I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Happy Yuletide!

“My dear, dear Mrs. Cheviot,” cried Lady Hartlepool, extending her arms to Elinor as she alighted from the carriage with legs that shook rather violently under her weight. When she had her hands firmly clasped in her own and assured Elinor that she must call her by her given name, Lady Hartlepool, _Eliza_ gave them a kind squeeze and kissed both her cheeks warmly, then did the same for Becky, who climbed stiffly from the carriage after her companion. “What a joy it is that you have made it in good time, and the weather being what it is!” 

“Oh, it is very good to be here,” cried Elinor, lifting her hems from the soft, wet ground, and giving Eliza a brief embrace. “You cannot imagine how delighted I am to see a kind face and the warm glow of candlelight in a window set out for me!”

“Oh, but of course you will want to come inside,” she laughed, waving for the footman to bring Elinor’s bandboxes down from the roof of the carriage and into the house. Once she had seen this so done, she hooked an arm through Elinor’s and steered her up the front walk of the charming house on Gay Street and to the comfortable sitting room where she had already ordered a fire built and a tea tray sent up for Elinor’s refreshment. 

This kindness was so profound that Elinor swallowed back a lump of emotion that threatened tears almost the instant her eyes rested on the steaming cup that Eliza graciously poured and pressed into her chilled hands.

“We have been just beside ourselves here, waiting for our dear Mrs. Cheviot to arrive,” Eliza went on, helping Becky into a deep-seated, plush chair that made the old governess sigh with delight as she settled creakingly into it. “Oh, but I have heard so much about you from my sister, Lady Flint, and it is so very, very good to have you here now. Please, tell me everything about you, so we may be quick to become acquainted as sisters, and not strangers.”

“You may start by calling me Elinor,” she offered firmly. “I wish you would not call me Mrs. Cheviot. Indeed, I wish no one would ever call me such a name again!”

“Oh, but of course,” laughed Eliza immediately. “Of course Nicky has written to say that you have a strong revulsion for Eustace’s name -- _not_ that I should blame you in the least. Nicky is ever so fond of _dear Cousin Elinor_ , and he has been teasing me for weeks that I should have another sister, and I am sure I now understand why!” 

Elinor decided that this extravagance of conversation was Quite Enough for her, and took a deep drink from her teacup, fixing her stare across the edge of it to dear Becky, whose eyes were half-lidded and sparkling with amusement. 

Her companion did not, apparently, have anything to add to this, except a moment later, when she set aside the delightful morsel she had selected for herself from the tray, and declared Lady Hartlepool to be the most indulgent, kindest of hostesses that _she_ had the pleasure of knowing, and added smugly that she was similarly persuaded that dearest Elinor would soon be numbered among the Carlyon siblings, _in a manner of speaking._

“But Ned will only be a few days behind,” Eliza assured her with a spectacular twinkle in her eye when the tea tray was taken away. “He was very confident that his business in town would keep him only a short period of time before he might be able to come on to Bath.”

Becky exchanged a knowing look with Eliza and settled in her chair rather more comfortably than before. “Well, I’m sure we all know what sort of business that might be,” she said rather smugly.

Elinor privately thought that there was almost no chance Ned would break their agreement any sooner than the complete end of her mourning period, but Eliza and Becky had already moved along to another, safer topic, and she delicately chose not to speak up.

As Eliza suggested, however, Ned _was_ only detained in London for a few days. Eliza kept Elinor tolerably occupied for a number of days simply by showing her all the sights which she had not any opportunity to see before. It was an extravagant way of living, Elinor quickly decided when she had time and means to purchase for herself two charming new hats, which Ned complimented her on when she met him in front of 12 Gay Street on the afternoon he finally arrived.

She had expected some delicacy of feeling between the two of them, for Elinor had not seen much of Ned in those months following the shocking business surrounding Mr. Cheviot’s death, before she finally removed from [house] to Bath. Yet when Ned arrived, it was quickly apparent to both parties that the connection they formed was quite genuine, and that Elinor quite enjoyed Ned’s company when he was not being deliberately obtuse. Sometimes then, too, Elinor was forced to admit to herself in private.

Were she some schoolroom miss, it would be not at all the thing for Lord Carlyon to stay in the same house as Mrs. Cheviot. As Elinor had no reputation to salvage, and as she was far too old to give one jot about such things, she did not mind so much relying on Lady Hartlepool’s unimpeachable reputation to provide a shield for the two of them while he stayed in Bath. 

In truth, Elinor did not entirely recall how a young woman of good breeding ought to be courted. She had some faint notion of receiving posies of flowers, armfuls of them, but no such things arrived. Ned talked with her over dinner, _laughed_ at her most of the time, she thought with a small huff of impatience. He joined her in the sitting room during the day, when she occupied herself with mending and other small household tasks which Eliza would permit her. And, most of all, they took long, meandering walks in the afternoon. 

This was Elinor’s favorite of Ned’s chosen method of courtship. For though they were certainly under public scrutiny, this was one of the few times that she could be more or less guaranteed some peaceful time alone with Ned. At 12 Gay Street, she would certainly be accompanied by Eliza or Becky, or entertaining some fancy of Nicky’s when he breezed in. And if anyone remarked on Lord Carlyon’s particular attentions to the Widowed Mrs. Cheviot, these things never made their way to Elinor’s ears.

But for an hour a day, she might walk with him and speak of, oh, _anything_ she liked and knew that Ned would listen, though he was also as likely as not to tease her. Ned did not make her feel silly, or ruined by her father’s disgrace. Indeed, he was charming and cordial, making her feel all the things she thought she might have felt had she ever been courted as a young miss rather than joining the ranks of governesses. 

It was this which decided the matter, that waiting to marry until she had finished mourning an odious man she had not known at all was as absurd as the marriage itself had been. And so, Elinor waited until they had completed just under a half of their usual walking route before she dared raise the subject with Ned.

He only looked mildly interested when she did, though he remarked with maddening patience that she had mere months left to her mourning period. 

Elinor folded her hands and stared straight ahead, feeling her heart pound impatiently in her chest. “I’m no young miss fresh from the schoolroom, of course,” she reminded him. “I have almost no reputation worth salvaging, if that’s what you’re concerned with.”

“Except, of course, the one where we mean to be married.” Ned looked at her with a fond crinkle at the corner of his eyes and she reminded herself once more that they wanted to do everything as was proper. There could be not even a whiff of impropriety, particularly of the sort that would render her ineligible to be his Lady Carlyon in what was now almost no time at all. 

And yet, it occurred to her more times than Elinor thought to count that they could still be married anyway, regardless of the color of her gloves. There were any number of women who were respectably married after a death in their family. Still more who married quickly to prevent disaster from befalling them or their families. And then, there were those who were wed simply to quiet the storms of scandal that threatened. 

“Why should we not marry now?” she finally asked, turning her stubborn face up toward him. “I have no need for a grand affair.”

“Your period of mourning is nearly over,” he said again with maddening simplicity. “There is no need to hurry along something which is already sure to come.”

“You have sold that wretched estate,” Elinor went on, as though Ned had not spoken at all. “Mr. Cheviot’s affairs are all settled, save for one, and you assured me you would.”

“Which is not settled?” interrupted Ned, looking faintly amused with her, although Elinor thought she also detected some sense of urgency. She set aside that observation, that Ned did not seem to like the idea that there was something he had overlooked. In a man who prized his cool head and omnipresent grasp, it was a charming flaw.

She sparkled at him, smoothing her grey pelisse. “ _I_ am not at all settled, Lord Carlyon.” 

Elinor thought she saw his mouth twitch with mirth, but when she looked again, Ned looked very serious. “You are not?”

She pressed on: “Not in the least.”

“Tell me,” intoned Ned, circling his thumb against the brim of his hat in his hands, turning it over. “Has my sister’s hospitality been lacking? Are you unhappy in Bath?”

“She has done what is correct, and I have no complaints about _her_ hospitality,” Elinor explained, making sure to look at him directly. “It is the hospitality of my lord that I must take issue with.”

“My hospitality!” Ned laughed and replaced his hat on his head. “Indeed, Mrs. Cheviot–”

“Pray, do not call me that!” Elinor said immediately and looped her arm through his, earning herself another glimpse of his amused approval. “Call me whatsoever you must, but do not call me by that man’s name.”

Ned tipped his head to her with a glitter in his eyes, his voice dropping softer when he said, “Then you must accept my apologies, my love.”

Instantly, Elinor’s face became a conflagration of color and heat and she was forced to look away to hide this and her irrepressible smile. “Tell me you will make the arrangements,” she said carefully. “Tell me I will not need to wait another week because of some absurd folly that made me a widow and not a governess.”

His expression was impossibly, obviously fond, and Elinor was suddenly quite sure that she had convinced him. 

“That same folly brought you to me,” Ned reminded her kindly, his thumb circling gently over her forearm. “Perhaps you still wish to have gone into Mrs. Macclesfield’s employment, but I have not yet found cause to regret that night.”


End file.
